


Slick and affectionate

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Consentacles, Crack, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Fluff, Other, Sexual Humor, Smut, Tentacle Sex, a plant with so much personality I should prolly list it an OC, there only be consensual smuts, very dirty mansion floors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme prompt: Fenris/Tentacles - Merrill's magic goes awry<br/>That's all you really need to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slick and affectionate

**Author's Note:**

> Even though it is a [kink meme prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15999.html?thread=61877119#t61877119), I filled it specifically for [Raelentrevelyan](raelentrevelyan.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Theoretically as a birthday present, but like a month late.

Fenris stared.

He could swear the plant was staring back at him, even if there were no eyes. A long thick tentacle, flattened on the underside with pores leaking something viscous ever so slowly. _Drip drip_ on the dusty floor.  
Several wide bladed leaves branched off, but only at nearly and arm’s length from the mysteriously agile tip. The leaves quivered as they turned to catch the last rays of sunlight pouring in through the roof.

Fenris stared.

And the plant _stared back._

“How did you get here?”

It felt a bit silly to be questioning a plant, but it was at least as silly for the plant to suddenly turn up out of nowhere. Fenris quickly peered into his wine bottle to assure himself he wasn’t drinking anything strange, but it was just the usual. He didn’t feel lightheaded or particularly drunk, nor was he seeing anything out of the ordinary other than the plant.

Meaning the plant truly just popped up in the perhaps five minutes Fenris had had his back turned to the door.

The long tentacle like stem swayed to the side slightly, giving the impression of clumsy instability.

Well, it was a _plant_. How many plants had tentacles moving about? No wonder it was not practiced in how to move around.

Fenris took a slow step forward, reaching out to the tip of the tentacle. The plant came forward to meet him, but recoiled at the touch of a sharp gauntlet. Fenris pulled back just as quickly, watching wide eyed as the tentacle shook like a dog shaking his head after getting his nose scratched by a cat. The thick liquid oozed from the pores on the underside, running down to the tip as it was kept pointed down.  
Protecting the wound?

Fenris almost felt guilty for harming the plant. It was tso... surprisingly empathic.

Putting down his wine bottle, Fenris slowly stripped off his gauntlets. He held them up for the plant to see – assuming the plant could see – before carefully putting them to the ground and reaching out a hand again.

The tentacle moved forward warily, curled to the side a little to keep the harmed tip protected from Fenris, but it dared to touch again. A small jolt of what Fenris would guess to be surprise went through the tentacle, and it quivered like the leaves further down.

“That’s it. I don’t mean to harm you.”

_He was still talking to the plant, Venhedis._

...

“It’s actually moving.”

“I told you, this is the basics we all learn.” Merrill was beaming at him proudly, even as he wrapped both arms around her waist to pull her in his lap. “I just have to practice making it move more precisely, that’s all.”

Hawke nodded, making a soft noise of agreement as Merrill sent the thick tentacle to sway to the side, and back again. It moved smoothly, if a little clumsily, like a newborn animal. It looked nothing like a limb though, more like a snake, movement seemingly boneless.  
No, it probably was boneless.

“Can you pick up the lyrium?”

“I’ll try.”

She looked adorable, tucked between Hawke’s knees, tongue peeking out slightly between her lips as she manipulated the plant, letting the tentacle move down and curl around the chunk of lyrium infused rock.  
_Normal_ lyrium infused rock. They had agreed to leave the red lyrium far from the house until Merrill was able to manipulate the tentacles as actual parts of her arms and hands.

“It’s just so odd... there should’ve been far more tentacles when I summoned them.”

...

As if the appearance and disappearance of the plant hadn’t been odd enough once, it came back the next day.

It had become a little more daring, approaching Fenris closer before the elf even noticed the plant’s presence. He was startled by the tentacle peeking over the arm rest of the old padded chair he was drinking in, but the plant flinched just as hard as he did.  
It was rather endearing, how easy it was to read the plant. No bad intentions, that was easy to see. If a plant could even _have_ intentions was of course a debate for another time. Fenris was not in the mood to dwell upon such technicalities. Possible or not, the plant was clearly friendly, and even if it tried to do something unwanted Fenris could scare it off just as easily with any sudden movement.

That seemed like an unnecessarily cruel thing to do, though.

Keeping his movement slow and measured, Fenris removed his gauntlets again, carefully putting them on the floor on the other side of his seat. The tip of the tentacle tilted curiously before sliding onto the arm rest, easing down on the fabric where it made some suspiciously squishy noises.

It was like it was _asking_ to be petted.

Fenris chuckled softly to himself, to the silly plant, and very carefully smoothed the palm of his hand over the top of the tentacle. The plant quivered again, and Fenris had the feeling it was an expression of delight. Considering the plant didn’t move away, he found it a fair assumption.

He petted the plant again – and again. And the plant stayed, quivering, leaves turning for the flats to face Fenris. As if Fenris was the sun to it now.

He chuckled again at the thought. Fenris was no sun. He was a lyrium-lined elf, that’s all. But he could shine nonetheless. It would be interesting to see the plant’s reaction to his flashing brands.

_The reaction was not quite what he expected._

As his brands lit up, the gentle quiver of the tentacle turned out into a full-out vibrate, and after an initial flinch the plant suddenly shot forward. Fenris tried to lean away in surprise, but the tentacle was wrapped around him before he knew what was happening.

Wrapped around him, slipped around his shoulder and the tip quivering up against the lit lines on his throat. Just the tip against his throat, and just against the line. There was nothing threatening about the plants change, even if it had been sudden and startled Fenris.

Rather than attacked he felt.... hugged.

“You’re an odd one. You realise you’re hugging a lyrium elf?”

The plant just quivered happily in response, rubbing against the lyrium lines contently.

...

“Almost- aaalmooost- ah!”

Merrill pouted most cutely, and Hawke had to put in some serious effort not to laugh and pick her up. It would be no good to treat her like a child now, even if she was being utterly adorable.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it right.”

“I almost had it... For some reason it’s too rough to slide, even if the plant doesn’t feel rough at all.” The petite elf held a hand up and the tentacle slid forward to drape over her hand. She turned it over gently, sliding the pad of her fingers over the lightly oozing pores. “I think... perhaps it’s this.”

“The stuff it’s been dripping all over the floor? Shouldn’t that make it more slippery? Bodahn’s been complaining, by the way. Perhaps you could keep the plant off the carpet?”

She nodded quickly, sitting upright immediately. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I have been making a mess, haven’t I? I’ll clean it up when I’m done, I promise.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s what I pay Bodahn for.” Hawke leaned over her where she sat on the floor with the tentacle still on her hand, pecking her lightly on the lips. “You just focus on making that plant slide better.”

...

Something was different.

Fenris’ nose crinkled slightly in reaction to the wet slide of the tentacle over his arm. The plant may have been oozing something before, it seemed to be a lot more now. And although it seemed to make his movement easier – especially when sliding over something else, like Fenris’ arm – it was a bit unsavoury.

“Look at who is coming home all wet. Didn’t they teach you to not drip all over someone’s floor?”

The tentacle cringed away a little in shame, but still continued to ooze all over the chair. Just great. How would he ever get that out of the fabric?

Fenris shook his head with an amused snort. _Why would he want to clean the musty old chair anyway?_

The plant was encouraged by the sound, sliding carefully around him again. Fenris had made sure to take off his armour today, expecting the plant to come again. He’d been rather comfortable last night, sitting wrapped up in the plant and drinking his wine. The plant was no bother, didn’t really restrict his movements, it just... was.  
_Fenris wasn’t going to dwell on how happy it made him a plant enjoyed his company enough to keep returning._

“All comfortable, are you? You’re lucky I like you, I’ll let the dripping slide this time.”

How funny. At least he could laugh about his own joke, the plant reacted only genuinely. He doubted jokes were of any use to a plant anyway. Still, it seemed pleased, and it lightly rubbed up against Fenris’ throat again, clearly seeking out the lyrium with his the slippery skin of the plant slid over the bright lines.

Fenris just jumped ever so slightly when he felt another touch, and the second tentacle flinched away at his reaction. He turned his hand palm up invitingly, laughing softly.

“Oh, you brought a little friend this time? Well, as Hawke says, ‘the more the merrier’. Find yourself a comfortable spot.”

The somewhat slighter tentacle slipped wetly into his hand, curling on his palm like a fern leaf about to open. It was a rather pretty sight, if he had to say so himself.

He didn’t know where these plants were coming from, but he was pleased. Even if they were likely some abandoned experiment from Danarius. They deserved their own freedom, if they were.

Laying the curled tentacle on his lap, he started to gently stroke the upside – then moved to stroke the bottom instead, where the pores were offering generous amounts of liquid to slide easily. “You’re safe here,” he muttered softly, hardly realising he was speaking. “Danarius won’t get you either.”

The plant quivered softly, tendrils unwrapping to hug Fenris even better, prodding under his clothes to seek out the lyrium.

And he laughed – not because it was ticklish, mind you – but because of how adorable a plant could be.

...

“M-messere, this is really too much!”

Hawke cringed, following the wildly gesturing Bodahn to the library.

“I have tried, messere, I have truly tried! Even Sandal can’t get the muck out from between the tiles even more, not even my boy can!”

“Perhaps it just needs to dry or something?”

“Messere! Have you _seen_ the library?!”

Well, he sure did now.

Hawke watched in horror, his library... well, was not quite what it had been. The floor was covered in a sheen of slime, wet tentacles sliding and squirming through like he was looking into a box of worms. There was slime on the chairs, on the carpet, on the table... there was slime slowly dripping from one bookshelf, as well as from the thick bound cover of the tome in Merrill’s hands.

“Merrill!”

“I’m so sorry! I’ll fix it I promise, please don’t be mad! I just need to make it a little thicker, makes sure it gives more friction, let the plant produce less- oh I’m so sorry, I will make this up to you Hawke!”

...

Fenris hardly minded how deeply the plant was going. It had clearly taken a liking to the lyrium, and it wasn’t hurting him. And honestly, it was a _plant_. It wasn’t his ‘virtue’ he had to worry about. The plant was simply eager to touch as much lyrium as it could, and cuddle Fenris while it was at it.

Fenris had never taken himself for the cuddly type, but here he was, enjoying the slide of the tentacles over his skin while he was hugged tenderly.

The amount of tentacles seemed to increase exponentially, but it didn’t have Fenris worried yet. He had plenty of space, and they had yet to break anything. Well, aside from the slick state of the chair and the floor, at least. And perhaps Fenris needed a bath after last night’s cuddling session, just like he would need tonight.

It was not as slippery though. The plant seemed to have a better grip, even if it could still slide wetly over his skin like the day before. It was as if the plant was learning, pulling back during the day to improve itself, to make the cuddling even better when the evening came around.

It only held back to catch the last rays of the sun before crawling all over Fenris’ body, curling under his clothes to rest comfortably on his skin.

Alright, it was a _little_ strange, but not uncomfortable. Fenris wasn’t being forced – he didn’t _feel_ like he was being forced. It was just a plant seeking affection, and the hum of the lyrium in his skin.

A slick tip rubbed idly over his chest, and he muffled a chuckle, taking a long drink from his wine.

“You’re tickling me, fool plant. Don’t make me crush you against the armrest by accident.”

The tentacles stilled for a moment, and if Fenris didn’t know any better he’d say it was _thinking_ about it. _And then it moved._

Suddenly all tentacles were moving at the same time, sliding smoothly behind his back, under his hips and ass and under his thighs, lifting him a few inches from the chair. There they gripped – or just stopped slipping, somehow – holding Fenris in place.

He blinked, wine still in one clamped fist.

He was lifted off his chair without any effort. In fact, he was still sitting just as comfortable as down in the slightly musty plush of the settee. All tentacles, all plant wrapped under and around him, holding him where he could do no harm – and where the plant could do no harm either.

No harm aside from tickling him again with that one tentacle tip.

“You are a terrible plant,” he muttered softly, allowing the tentacle to explore his chest for ticklishness. It lingered on his nipples, rubbing circles around them wetly and then a little rougher, making Fenris a bit lightheaded.  
This shouldn’t feel as good.

“What are you...” His head fell back with a pleased sigh rather than finishing his sentence as both his nipples were now given the same attention in tandem. And he was enjoying himself, so he couldn’t exactly blame the plant, now could he?

Fenris rather doubted the plant had any concept of ‘bad intentions’.

...

“Hawke! I did it!”

Hawke rushed into the room to find Merrill standing with her arms spread wide, beaming proudly over the tentacle between them. The tentacle was curled in a small loop, in which the slightly rounded lyrium infused rock was cradled.

Cradled. Not held.

Oh, the tentacle was clearly trying. It was dripping the viscous liquid in attempts to increase the friction, tightening to properly grip the rock, only for it to slide up higher in the loop. The tentacle loosened the loop again for the rock to slide back down, and tightened once more to grip it properly.

And again.

And again.

“Well done, Merrill.... now if you’d excuse me?”

“Hawke? Is something wrong?”

“N-nothing’s wrong!”

He stormed off to the bedroom, finger hooking in his collar for some fresh air. _He hoped he could get to his room without Bodahn spotting him and his erection after that show._

...

“And how was your day?”

Alright, that was probably drawing the line. Fenris cringed to himself in embarrassment at the lame attempt, even if the plant happily quivered at the question, wrapping enthusiastically around Fenris’ body. He was already lifted from the chair to sit comfortably mid-air before he could consider if he was prepared.

Being suspended by a plant was fun and all, but his wine was still down there.

“Remind me to not speak like you are a husband returning from work,” he muttered instead, only slightly disgruntled with his lack of wine. The tentacles were still sliding around him, and it made him feel a bit giddy.

A bit excited too, after last night.

The plant quivered again in delight, but then froze at a different sound. Fenris ears twitched before turning down, and he pressed his lips together wryly.

“Please don’t rip my clothes. I rather like this shirt.”

_Of course he should’ve seen the plant’s solution coming._

Before he could so much open his mouth to protest, the laces of his breeches and shirt were undone by a few deft tendrils. The tentacles wrapped around his torso squirmed and twisted, somehow lifting his shirt while pressing his breeches down as well.

“H-wait a minute-”

No such luck. His wrists and ankles were delicately grabbed to stretch him, and the clothes were removed unharmed while the tentacles wrapped around him from the middle once more. Fenris could feel the tips of his ears burning when a few tendrils in particular wrapped around his soft length – not so soft length, considering what he had been remembering of last night.

And then the tendrils slipped wetly, sliding up towards the tip only to attempt to get a grip anew.

And Fenris’ breath hitched, and his length hardened, and the plant _paused_.

_Down down down we go._

Fenris arched strongly when a thicker tentacle took hold of his cock, squeezing and rubbing experimentally. The other tentacles easily supported his body no matter where he moved, making him feel almost weightless while he was stroked to full hardness. The plant was a quick learner, using just enough of the slick liquid coming from its pores to keep the slide smooth and pleasant, and just enough of the friction to make it almost mind blowing right off the bat.

He came with a hoarse cry, stroked to completion in mere minutes, vision blacking out at the intensity of it.

_And the tentacles kept him safely in their embrace, cuddling him and depositing him on his bed before they would retreat._

...

“I made it even better now!”

Hawke barely dared to look. But he had to, didn’t he? Merrill sounded so proud of her accomplishment, even if the squishing sounds of the tentacles sliding together was more than a little suggestive.

So he dared to peek. _And Maker, he regretted._

To improve the grip she had managed last night, one tentacle was now poking into the loop from below, tip up, to keep the chunk of lyrium rock from falling down while the tentacle around it tried to get a grip. It went almost well, only it still had to be in constant motion to be sure it wouldn’t fall.

A constant motion of lightly squeezing of the curled tentacle over the length of the rock, the one below bobbing _slightly like an obscene imitation of fucking the loop of tentacle._

“Oh Maker... Merrill please have _mercy_.”

...

He moaned.

_Venhedis he was moaning in his own room, not touching himself, being stroked by a plant._

This plant was _good_ though.

Just like last night, he was cradled in plenty of tentacles to be completely comfortable. No odd pressure on a body part that was too soft for that, even if he was splayed out like on a particularly uneven table. The tentacle on his cock was slower this time, like it had figured things had gone too fast the night before.

Fasta vass, he’d passed out and only woke in the morning. That was _definitely_ too fast.

Good thing the plant had adapted.

Less pressure, less friction, slower stroking. Actually, now that Fenris thought about it, his plant was positively _teasing_ him this time. Yet he couldn’t be bothered to feel irritated or impatient, not with the tentacles beneath him shifting and bobbing, massaging his back naturally while others brought slow sweet pleasure.

A few tendrils brushed over his bottom lip, and he gasped, eyes fluttering closed. Soon enough a thinner tentacle followed, the wet bottom side of the tentacle sliding over his bottom lip and streaking it with the slick fluids.

Fenris licked his lip instinctively – and even if his mind warned him belatedly how this might be a bad idea, he ended up only moaning at the sweet, fresh taste of it.

The plant took this as permission to go on, of course. And frankly, it was.

The tip of the tentacle played over his lips, dipping in between lightly where Fenris met it with his tongue. For a moment they played a game of cat and mouse before the tentacle dared to slip in, curling and teasing, pulling back the very moment Fenris muscles twitched to gag.

If anything, Fenris was sure he couldn’t have wished for a more considerate lover than this plant.

By now the plant was starting to explore other parts again as well. No longer focused on just the lyrium, a tip of a tentacle slipped between Fenris’ ass cheeks, prodding to find what was there. _A hole, of course._

The attempt for the same cat and mouse game was quickly aborted – not like Fenris could actually reciprocate down there – and the tendrils prodded over the ring of muscle as it twitched under the attentions, helpless attempts of Fenris to spread wide made impossible by his very own body. If he could, he’d open the hole up wide to welcome the tentacle in, but he could not. Neither could he verbally pass the invitation, with the one tentacle soothingly rubbing the oozing flat underside over his tongue to give him all of the liquid he liked.

Luckily the plant was experimental enough even without Fenris’ encouragement, and he felt the tentacles around his legs spread him wider. One tendril slipped inside, followed by another and then a next. Fenris moaned and gasped at the odd feeling of the wriggling little tendrils inside him, breath hitching into a loud pleasured yelp when the tip of a thinner tentacle dared to press inside while the tendrils retreated. The whole plant paused, all movement freezing for a moment to give Fenris the chance to protest.

Instead of protest, he whined plaintively, wordlessly demanding more. And his trusty plant, of course, wasted no time.

The tentacle slid in deeper, exploring the tender skin of his insides while the squirming and wriggling of his green bed picked up again as well, holding him gently and allowing him to move and arch whichever way he liked. He sucked sharply on the tentacle in his mouth, moaning deeper as the one in his ass hit that particularly sensitive spot.

_And from there it was all quick business again._

...

“Just keep practicing for now. I found some dwarves willing to go down and get us a sample of that red lyrium and we can accompany them to the Deep Roads entrance tomorrow. Another few weeks and you can start your research, trying to find out what is wrong with that stuff.”

If Merrill noticed how uncomfortable he was, she sure wasn’t acknowledging it. Did she really _have_ to try pick up her tea cup with the tentacle though?

What had been seen could not be unseen, and his mind was helpfully providing images of those tentacles being dicks and vaginas trying to stably lift the tea cup, while his little elf leaned forward and cooed proudly as she sipped – and spilled the tea all over herself, of course.

She squeaked, and Hawke saw his chance.

In less than two seconds he stood up and scooped his girlfriend in his arms. “Bath! Let’s get you cleaned up and you can go on with the dic- _tentacles_ tomorrow! Let’s call it a day!”

“But Hawke I need to-”

She tried to stretch, lean out of his grip towards the plant, but Hawke was already on his way. He had seen more than enough.

He needed Merrill in a bath – and himself in that same bath. _Right now._

...

 _Again_.

It seemed the plant just couldn’t get sated tonight.

Which was a ridiculous thought because the plant was not actually receiving any sexual stimulation out of this. It was just Fenris being wrung out for the third time already, panting and sweating and close to begging for mercy. There was a tentacle in his mouth again though, making it a bit difficult to protest.

And did he want to protest? Truly?

 _Yes_. This was too much. His whole body jolted and bucked when the thick tentacle in his ass once again started teasing his prostate with the tip. Two of them were sliding around his cock, a furious shade of red and aching in oversensitivity, meaning plenty of the slickness was provided from the pores to keep it from hurting too much. Several tentacles lay flat over his chest, kneading and teasing over his nipples while running criss-cross wet trails over his lyrium lines.

He couldn’t take anymore.

_And yet he was growing hard again under the attentive ministrations._

He groaned helplessly, sucking on the tentacle in his mouth, savouring the sweet taste of it. The freshness in the flavour gave the illusion he was actually drinking something refreshing, which he direly needed with how overheated he felt.

So perhaps it was lucky when the tentacle wriggled out of his mouth, looking somewhat withered under the hard sucking Fenris had done. He paused for a moment to wonder if he had actually sucked the poor tentacle dry, but then the slick pressure around his cock and on his prostate increasing brought him back to the matter at hand.

Not only was he too sensitive, Hawke was expecting his help in the morning and with the way this was going, he’d be limping and exhausted. Not how he wanted to show before his friends.

“P-please... enough... thank you, but... enough...”

The caresses slowed in their rhythm, and Fenris would swear the plant managed to look confused. So he gingerly reached down, his arm allowed the movement with no resistance despite the tentacles wrapped around that had kept it from dropping down all this time. He pushed softly at the tentacles around his cock, smiling tiredly.

“I... had enough. I need to sleep...”

The plant recoiled, the tentacle in his ass pulling out with an audible pop and the rest unwinding from his body quickly. Before he could protest he was already being laid out on his bed, no matter if he was still a mess of various fluids – his own and the plant’s combined generously.

“I’m not mad,” he muttered tiredly, reaching out for the closest tentacle. “Just tired... come here.”

The tentacle approached again hesitantly, and Fenris had to gently take hold of it to pull it in close. He wrapped his arms around it, curling slightly as he hugged the plant to his chest.  
“Mmm... sleep tight plant.”

...

“My, Fenris, you’re smiling!”

The elf huffed, but when Hawke turned to see he could confirm his girlfriend’s observation. He was practically shining.

“Like a pregnant woman,” he coughed, semi-subtly and smirking.

It earned him a rather filthy glare from the elf, but nothing more. Fenris really was in a good mood, not to argue.

“So what _does_ get our broody elf in such a good mood? Getting laid?”

The way Fenris’ ears reddened immediately was all the answer Hawke needed, and he grinned even wider, immediately sliding up to the elf to prod him in the side.

“Are you serious? Who is the lucky one? You look tired, were there more than one? Come on, you can tell your best friend Hawke~”

“It’s none of your business,” Fenris responded, surprisingly good-naturedly. “Rather than poking in my personal matters, keep an eye on your witch. What is she doing?”

Hawke turned with a questioning look to see, paling when he instantly recognised the spell she was casting.

“M-Merrill would you really do that _here_ I don’t think-”

_Too late._

The tentacles sprung up around her, winding over her shoulders as they walked, so they wouldn’t be left behind. Fenris had paled just as much as Hawke had, so he was sure they would agree Merrill had to put those aw-  
_Wait? Fenris paled at the sight of the tentacles?_

Hawke’s jaw dropped slightly when a larger portion of the tentacles slid over to Fenris, winding up his legs and straight into his clothes. The elf quickly went from pale to bright red – Hawke had to note Fenris was able to blush a lot brighter than he would’ve expected – and spluttered helplessly at the plant’s clear intimacy.

“Ohh! So that’s why there were always so few tentacles when I summoned them!”

“F-Fenris are those in your p-pa-”

Hawke would swear it wasn’t his fault for almost fainting when Fenris actually _squeaked_ , his knees turning in together as the bulging in his breeches made it rather unmistakable what the plant was doing.

He did know he would have to have words with Merrill about her spell’s lyrium sensitivity.


End file.
